


A Cure for What Ails You

by oulamort



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Illnesses, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oulamort/pseuds/oulamort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposting after editing. Courfeyrac has the stomach flu. Combeferre takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cure for What Ails You

The apartment was unusually quiet when Combeferre returned from classes. Enjolras was rarely home in the afternoons. Instead, he chose to utilize the study rooms in the university’s library or go to the Musain. Since Combeferre had classes until late in the afternoon and Enjolras simply was never home, Courfeyrac usually took advantage of the afternoons to, well, to be honest? Combeferre wasn’t entirely sure what he did. He suspected Courfeyrac usually cleaned, did homework, or something of that ilk, but he didn’t actually know. 

What he did know was that there was always noise when he returned home. Courfeyrac always had music, the TV, something playing for background noise. (And if it was music, Courfeyrac was usually singing along, no matter what the genre.) 

So when Combeferre returned that afternoon to a completely silent apartment, he knew something was off, but surprisingly, he didn’t start worrying right away. In fact, Combeferre did not start to worry until he knocked on Courfeyrac’s door. 

“Courf? Are you home?” He wasn’t entirely sure what the following whimper was supposed to mean.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” a voice blearily replied. 

Combeferre opened the door. At first, he didn’t even see his boyfriend. Then, he spotted the mass of dark curls pouring out the top of the mound of blankets. The mass of curls started moving, until Combeferre finally saw the face it was attached to. 

“You ok? You don’t look so great.” Combeferre said, walking into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I think I have the stomach flu.” Courfeyrac replied, hoarsely. It was a testament to how awful he felt that he didn’t make a joke of Combeferre’s comment on his appearance. 

“What are your symptoms?” asked Combeferre, easily slipping into the doctor role. “Nausea, vomiting?”

“Both,” croaked Courfeyrac. 

Combeferre brushed the curls off of Courfeyrac’s face to allow him easier access to feel his forehead. “Slight fever, it feels like. Do you think you had a higher fever earlier?”

“I had some bad chills earlier,” Courfeyrac murmured.

“I’m guessing that’s why I currently have a burrito for a boyfriend?” Combeferre quipped.

Courfeyrac smiled faintly. 

“Alright, when did the vomiting start, and when was the last time you vomited?” Combeferre asked, returning to his clinical tone. 

Courfeyrac scrunched up his face. “Can you not say vomit? Even the word is too much right now. But, it started about nine this morning. And it’s been about an hour and a half. So it broke the once an hour pattern.” 

“Which might mean you’re on the mend. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten or had anything to drink today?” Courfeyrac shook his head no. “If I go get some crackers and Sprite, will you try to eat for me?” Courfeyrac nodded yes. 

By the time Combeferre returned, Courfeyrac had dismantled his blanket burrito and was sitting up in bed, leaning on a huge mound of pillows. Combeferre set the plate and cup down on the nightstand and picked the thermometer up from where he had set it on the plate. 

“Can I take your temperature really fast?” Courfeyrac nodded and opened his mouth. After a minute, the thermometer beeped. 

“99.8,” Combeferre said. “So low-grade.” He smiled down at Courfeyrac. “Scoot over.”

“No, it’s fine,” Courfeyrac said, protesting. 

“Courf, you’re sick. Let me help,” Combeferre said. 

“No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Combeferre just gave him a Look. “Courf, first off, chances are if it’s contagious? I more than likely already have it. We exchange bodily fluids on a regular basis. Second, I’m your boyfriend. I love you. Let me take care of you.”

Courfeyrac still protested. “No, it’s really fine.”

As stubborn as Courfeyrac could be, Combeferre could be even worse. “Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac sighed and relented. “I just…I don’t want you to see me throw up. 

Combeferre just gave him an even sterner Look than the previous Look. “Courf?”

“Yeah?” he replied, hesitantly. 

“I’m a med student.” Combeferre said patiently. “I have seen much worse. Trust me.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair away from Courfeyrac’s face, before settling his hand on the nape of his boyfriend’s neck. “Let me take care of you. Please?”

Courfeyrac nodded and scooted over, allowing Combeferre to sit beside him on the bed. 

“Before we get too comfortable, did you want to watch a movie?”

“Harry Potter?” Courfeyrac asked. Combeferre smiled, and got up to put the DVD in. He sat back down on the bed as the movie started playing. Courfeyrac immediately snuggled up to his boyfriend. Combeferre wasn’t surprised. Courfeyrac was always a tactile person. It only made sense that he craved human touch even more when he didn’t feel like himself. 

As the evening wore on, the two boys lay in bed cuddling and watching movies. Courfeyrac did not throw up anymore, much to his relief. He even managed to eat a few of the crackers that Combeferre had brought him. The two fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms after having an uneventful evening. 

The next morning, Courfeyrac woke up, draped over Combeferre’s body and feeling immensely better. Combeferre woke up to Courfeyrac peppering kisses all over his neck and shoulders. 

“Good morning.” Courfeyrac smiled and went back to kissing his boyfriend’s neck. 

“Good morning,” Combeferre replied. “Feeling better?”

“Much. So much better in fact, that I’m thinking Thanks for Taking Care of Me, You’re the Best Boyfriend Ever, Good Morning Sex is in our future.” Courfeyrac leaned down to plant a kiss on Combeferre’s lips. He could feel Combeferre smile into the kiss, then all of a sudden Combeferre went tense. Courfeyrac leaned back.

“Ferre? You ok?” he asked, before being clumsily pushed aside as Combeferre ran out of the room. Courfeyrac could hear the sound of retching through the thin bedroom walls. 

“Well, time to go return the favor,” Courfeyrac announced to the empty room, before going to the bathroom to take care of his sick boyfriend.


End file.
